


Only The Scent Of You Remains

by afteriwake



Series: All Of Time And Space [24]
Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Big Bang Challenge, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-21
Updated: 2012-08-21
Packaged: 2017-11-12 04:40:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/486794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The stability in his life thrown for a loop, first with Amy's acceptance of his marriage proposal, then with the Doctor's death, and finally with a startling revelation he didn't see coming, it's up to Sherlock and others to find his family and bring them home to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I think this is my favorite fic I've written in the entire series (except the "Mycroft's a bastard" story, because Bastard!Mycroft is just so much fun to write). I really hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. This is a re-write of the Doctor Who episodes "The Impossible Astronaut" and "A Good Man Goes To War."

It had been a few months since the scare, when the “fan” the cab driver mentioned made himself known. Jim Moriarty was clever, oh so clever, but not clever enough. He had made the mistake of using Amy as a hostage, strapping a bomb to her chest after playing an extended game of cat and mouse using innocent people as bait. He still thought his actions were too lenient, but he didn’t share that opinion with anyone else. When Amy took time away to think about things it felt as if the glimmer of light in his life had shut out, and not even an incredibly challenging case from Lestrade had improved his mood. It wasn’t until she showed up at his flat six days later and told him that he’d scared her but it was okay because she knew she would have picked up the gun and shot the bomb at Moriarty’s feet if Sherlock’s life had been in danger that it came back. Her acceptance had marked a change in things for him.

He liked how things had settled, and he had turned his mind to other thoughts as time progressed. He did not hold to the label that he was a high functioning sociopath as much, though he would admit he didn’t care about the niceties and such of society, and he was too blunt for his own good and would say exactly what was on his mind without regard for what it meant to whomever he was talking to. He knew that the fact that he even cared a little about such things, which manifested in his attempts to be easier to live and work with, was all Amy’s doing. She had succeeded in convincing him that perhaps his view of himself was a bit off. But despite realizing she had made changes in him, most of the time, away from her or those who he knew he needed to treat better, he was still the same aloof, cold person he usually was.

After much thought, he had come to realize that, yes, what he felt for her was love. He had not intended for it to come out the way it did, after an argument in the middle of March, but the reaction on her face had been priceless and the argument had been squashed. She reciprocated in kind and he made her promise they would not become one of those sappy clichéd couples who made everyone in the vicinity want to vomit and she vowed if he ever got that way she would commit him to psychiatric care. She had made no such promises on her own behavior but so far he hadn’t seen a change in that direction, much to his relief. The evening of the argument they were nice enough to remain at her flat the entire evening and most of the next day. It was the first time he had actually blown off work, and he doubled up on it afterwards.

Now, he was contemplating a step he had never before thought would cross his mind: marriage. He and Mycroft had had a rather extended and vicious argument about the state of his relationship with Amelia, culminating in Mycroft threatening Sherlock with being brought up on charges for the Moriarty incident if he crossed him. Sherlock knew that Mycroft only cared about him marrying Amelia if she became pregnant with his child, but Mycroft had been warned that he would not use coercion to get Amelia to marry him, and when Mycroft had said he’d bribe her Sherlock had walked out. Mycroft had no say in the type of life he lead, the state of his relationship or anything else for that matter, but with the threat of prosecution in the air he had to be careful.

It seemed to be a moot point, however; it had come up in the conversation with Amy shortly after his fight with his brother that she wouldn’t be adverse to marriage to him, and in fact was not only eager to marry him when the time was right but was also fine with the possibility of carrying his child. It was more than he could have hoped for, and so he was giving marriage serious thought. Not so much that it distracted from cases, but enough that it loomed on his mind when he thought about her. There were many advantages to it, but also disadvantages as well, and he knew timing was one of them, because Amelia had said that she knew he wasn’t ready yet. He took his time weighing them against each other. It wasn’t a decision he wanted to rush into, and he knew she would appreciate it more if he went into the agreement wanting it wholeheartedly.

It was now mid-April, and he had decided he would ask, despite there being only a month since his feelings were made known to her. He couldn’t give her a flowery romantic proposal; that wasn’t his nature and they both knew it. He would ask her in a straightforward manner and let her answer as she saw fit. If she answered yes then he would move on from there. If she answered no…well, he hoped it would just be a bump in the road and not a stumbling block. He was almost sure she would say yes, though, so he wasn’t worried too much. He made up his mind to ask that evening, when John came carrying in the mail. “Anything interesting?” he asked.

He held up two envelopes, nearly identical to each other. Sherlock came closer to look at them. One was addressed to him, the other to John. “Yours has a number 3 on the back, and mine has a 4.”

“No return address,” he murmured, taking his envelope and opening it. He looked at the notecard inside. “Map coordinates and a date and time.”

“Mine has the same,” he replied. He looked over at Sherlock’s. “They’re the exact same coordinates.”

“Interesting,” he replied. He went to the closest computer, which happened to be John’s, and entered in the coordinates.

“I was reading that,’ John said, crossing his arms and shaking his head.

“I opened a new browser window,” he replied without looking up. “These coordinates are in Utah. At Lake Silencio, to be exact.”

“Do you know anyone there?” he asked.

“No,” he said. He stood up. “I don’t like this. It could be some sort of trap. Perhaps someone is taking Moriarty’s idea on a more global scale.”

There was a knock at the still open door and they both turned. “Hello boys,” Amy said. “Oh, so I see you got one too.” She held up her envelope. “Mine has a 1 on the back.”

“You received coordinates?” Sherlock asked.

She nodded. “Yes.”

“It could still be a trap,” he murmured, and got a chuckle from her in response. “What?”

“It’s from the Doctor,” she said, smiling. “I’d recognize his chicken scratch anywhere.”

“Oh, well, that’s better,” John said, relaxing. “Another adventure, perhaps?”

“Possibly,” Sherlock said. “I don’t know if I can go, though. It’s a few days from today and I’m in the middle of a case.”

“How close are you to solving it?” she asked.

“Close.” That was true, though he had just set a trap in motion and he wasn’t sure when his trap would be sprung. It was vital he got a confession because while there was evidence it was not sufficient on its own for a conviction.

“Then solve it and come with me. Us?” she asked, turning to John, who nodded. “Us.”

He thought about it, and then looked at Amy. “I will go if I solve the case.” She smiled brighter. “And as long as nothing else comes up. You know I place my work above adventures.”

“I know. You won’t regret it, though.” She put her arms around his waist and kissed his cheek. “It’ll be fun.”

“You hope,” he said.

She shook her head and let go of him. “I swear, sometimes you like to suck the fun out of things, Sherlock.”

“We might be being gathered for some other reason,” he said. “I don’t like jumping to conclusions. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth.”

“Well, I’ll try and make it as fun as I can,” she said. “Where do these coordinates lead, anyway?”

“A Lake Silencio, in Utah,” John said.

“That’s a strange place for an adventure,” she said with a frown. Then she shrugged. “Oh well. It’s the Doctor. None of us really understand how his mind works.”

“Very true,” Sherlock said, looking at her. “While you’re here, there’s something I’d like to ask you,” he said.

“Sure,” she said. “What is it?”

“I was thinking it might be better in private.”

“One of _those_ questions,” she said.

“In a way.”

“And I think I’ll go to the nearest pub for a few hours,” John said. “Call me when I can come home.”

“We will,” she said with a grin. She waved at him as he grabbed his coat and left, and then turned back to Sherlock. “So, what’s your question?”

“I was wondering how you would feel about getting married. To me.”

She blinked, and didn’t reply for a moment. “Are you asking me to marry you, Sherlock?” she asked quietly, looking at him quizzically and moving closer.

“Yes,” he said. “I don’t have any flowery words to use to sway you. But you know how I feel, and how rare that feeling has been in my life for anyone, let alone someone I want to spend the rest of my life with. And I would take care of you, as best I can. Make sure you’re safe. I will do whatever I can to make you happy, I swear. I—“

He was cut off when her lips pressed against his. “Yes,” she said softly when she pulled away and looked at him. “Yes, I’ll marry you.” She had a warm smile on her face. “It may be a little fast, but it feels right.”

“I don’t have a ring,” he said, looking just a bit embarrassed. “I know women like to have rings when they’re asked to marry someone. I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay,” she said, putting her arms around his neck. He let his hands settle at her waist. “After America you can get me one.”

“That’s if I go,” he said.

“Well if you don’t, when I come back,” she said. “Do you want help in picking it out?”

“Yes,” he said, feeling very grateful for the suggestion. ‘I don’t know much about your preference in jewelry, though I could hazard a guess.”

“You did well with the locket for Christmas,” she replied.

“Only because Mrs. Hudson helped. If it had been left up to me you probably wouldn’t have gotten a gift.” He frowned. “I haven’t seen you wear it for months, come to think of it. Did something happen to it?”

She shook her head. “No, I just misplaced it, that’s all. Took it off to take a shower, forgot about it and now I can’t find it. It will come up.” Then she smiled. “We have the place to ourselves for a bit. I say we celebrate.”

“And how do you suggest doing that?” he said.

She leaned in and kissed him softly but deeply, and he responded in full measure. Slowly she began backing out of the living room to go towards his bedroom, still kissing him with no end in sight. They were in the doorway when she pulled away. “Oh.”

“What?” he asked, concerned.

“Just that feeling I’ve had the last month or so, that weird feeling in my gut I told you about.” She put a hand on her stomach and bent over as an odd look crossed her face. After a moment she stood up. “It’s strange. It’s been happening more frequently. Like I’m being kicked from the inside.”

He took a step back and looked at her. She hadn’t gained any noticeable weight, and after their time on the TARDIS they had been more careful. If she was pregnant from that encounter she would be five months along right now, approximately. There was always the chance she was pregnant from a more recent time together; they hadn’t talked much about whether she was taking precautions from pregnancy alongside the ones he was taking. “Do you think you might be pregnant?” he asked.

“Pregnant? God, no. I mean, I’m not regular all the time but I’d know if I was…wouldn’t I?”

“Perhaps,” he said. “Every pregnancy is different and every woman reacts differently to being pregnant. You could be and just not realize it yet.”

“What a way to kill celebrating,” she said with a sigh. “I believe it might be time for a pregnancy test. Would you get two of them? The men with the cameras don’t follow you when you’re alone.”

“Yes,” he said. He looked at her intently. “If you are, it is not a bad thing,” he replied.

“I know,” she said with a smile. “I wouldn’t mind carrying your child.”

The words warmed him more than she would ever know. He kissed her quickly, then went to the local market after making sure no one followed him. He got the tests and went back to his flat to find her in the kitchen, nibbling on one of the cookies John’s newest girlfriend had made him. “I have them,” he said.

“Thank you. I just drank two huge glasses of cranberry juice, so I’m ready.” She took the boxes from him and went into the bathroom. He waited patiently, and when she came out she had a frown on her face. “Inconclusive, for both of them,” she said with a sigh.

“Then you can just go to the doctor,” he said.

“I will. After America,” she said. He opened his mouth to protest but she put a finger on his lips. “I need to go in anyway, and I already have an appointment in a week and a half. I’ll just ask for a pregnancy test then, all right?”

“Fine,” he said. “This is going to plague me, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” she said. “Me too.” She went to the trash and tossed the tests inside and then began rummaging through the cabinets.

“Going to cook?” he asked.

“Mmhmm,” she replied. “I know earlier I wanted to take you to bed but right now, I’m not up to it.”

“Understandable,” he said, though he had to admit he was disappointed. “Anything I can do to help?”

“Get the eggs out,” she said. “And the cheese and bell peppers. I’m going to make us omelets.”

“All right.” He went to the fridge, his mind whirring with activity, doused in a veil of disappointment. He wanted to know now, but he knew it was no use to argue. He was going to get satisfaction in this, but the answer to this very important question was not going to be answered yet. He would have to wait, and the waiting might kill him.


	2. Chapter 2

He had solved the case at the last minute, but Amy had anticipated this and had a ticket waiting for him at the airport. He boarded the plane with nothing more than the clothes on his back and his passport, and he settled into the first class seat next to her just before the plane took off. John already had headphones on in the seat behind them and was valiantly trying to sleep.

“I knew you would make it,” she said, holding onto his arm that was next to her and hugging him from the side. “No luggage?”

“No time,” he replied. It had been a long time since he had been on a plane and he was glad they were traveling in first class. He had room to stretch out. “All I have on me is identification and my passport.”

“Cutting it close,” she said.

“Lestrade brought me to the airport, with full sirens on. It was the only way I would have made it on time.”

“I never thought you would willingly sit in a police car,” she said.

“He said precisely the same thing, but when I told him I was meeting you he put on the sirens. I didn’t want to let you down,” he said simply. 

She smiled at him, and then settled into her seat. After a few minutes she turned to him. “Are you sure you’re fine with me footing the expenses for this?”

“It’s fine,” he replied. The plane began to take off, and he looked over Amy to glance out the window. She was used to flying, and had reward miles for the amount of trips she had taken for modeling assignments. He knew John’s ticket had been completely covered with reward points while she had had to pay for his. It had never bothered him that she made more money than he did, and he had to remind her so when she felt guilty about it. He paid for some of their dates, and if there was something specific he wanted to eat he paid for the ingredients regardless of whether it was cooked at her flat or his. He contributed in small ways, and it was sufficient.

“John was ecstatic when he saw we were in first class,” she said. “I didn’t have the heart to stick you two in coach while I was up here. I think this is his first time traveling first class.”

“I hope he enjoys it,” Sherlock said, stretching out. “You’re a good friend to him.”

“Yeah, well, he’s a good friend to me, too,” she said. “I’m amazed you two get along so well sometimes. You just seem like you wouldn’t.”

“The same could be said for you and me,” he pointed out.

“I know,” she said. “But I have history on my side. You two are still relatively new at the whole friends thing.”

“He’s my only friend,” he replied.

“And what am I, chopped liver?” she asked in a teasing voice.

“You’re my fiancée. That’s different,” he said.

“I don’t ever want to stop being your friend,” she replied. “I can always be more than that, but at the end of the day I need to still be your friend.”

He nodded slowly. “All right.”

“You’re just saying that to agree with me because you don’t see the logic in my request,” she said wryly.

“What makes you say that?” he said, slightly hurt.

“Because that’s the way you are. And it’s okay.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “You’ll still be my friend first.”

She turned and looked out the window, leaving him to his thoughts. He tried his best to go to the calm center in his mind where the thoughts didn’t come a million miles an hour. The pregnancy question still bothered him, and he had other things to think about regarding it. They had not talked much about what they expected in terms of a wedding. She was, for all intents, a celebrity; a wedding would most likely need to be a huge affair, and he wanted to avoid all of it if he could. He would be quite happy with a simple civil ceremony. And then there was the matter of where they would live. The three of them could be comfortable in his home, but if she was pregnant that wouldn’t really be an option. So he would probably have to move in with her. 

He thought about it for almost an hour, running around in circles until he started to feel the beginning twinges of a headache. He looked over to her and saw she was reading a book. “The Hunger Games,” he read from the cover, his voice barely above a murmur.

“Yes, and I’m at the good part,” she said, not moving her face away from the page. 

“Do you have anything for a headache?” he asked.

“No,” she replied, lowering the book slightly. “John might, though.”

Sherlock looked at the fasten seatbelt sign. It was off, so he undid his and stood up. John was sound asleep, and he sat back down with a scowl. “He’s asleep.”

“Wake him up.”

“The last time I did that I set off a war flashback, and we don’t need that in an airplane,” he said sourly. “There was shouting and he punched me in the face. He was quite apologetic about it afterwards, but I doubt a stewardess having to deal with it would be inclined to forgive and forget.”

She chuckled slightly, then reached up and pressed one of the buttons above them. Within moments a stewardess arrived. “Yes?”

“Do you have anything he can take for a headache?”

“Would paracetamol work?” she asked.

“Yes. Four please,” he replied. She nodded and left. “Thank you,” he said, turning to Amy.

“Not a problem,” she replied, pulling the book back up. “You should try and get some sleep. It’s a long flight.”

“What about you?” he asked.

“I’m not going to sleep until I finish this book. Right now they’re in the makeshift shelter and Katniss just drugged Peeta so she can get the package at the cornucopia. I’m hoping it’s medicine for the gash in his leg. It’s going to be exciting, though, because Cato is still out there somewhere. He really does not like her. And since the whole point of the games is for them to kill each other until one is left, she’s very wary.”

“I don’t understand a word you just said,” he replied, shaking his head.

“Don’t you read for fun?” she asked, lowering the book again as the stewardess returned with two foil packages and a glass of water.

“Thank you,” he told her before turning his attention to getting the pills out. “Not anything like that.”

“So you only read, like, obscure scientific magazines and stuff like that?”

“Mostly, yes,” he replied, managing to get two pills out. “I usually tend not to fill my mind up with fiction.”

“Which is why I never watch movies with you,” she said with a nod. “Or watch the telly with you, for that matter.”

“Precisely,” he replied, beginning to work on the other packet.

“And you wouldn’t be caught dead reading this,” she said.

“Not a chance.” He got the other pills free and swallowed all four of them. “But if it entertains you then it’s good for something.”

She smiled slightly and shook her head. “Whenever we have a baby I get to pick the bedtime stories,” she said, going back to her book. “I’m going to fill her head with fantastic stories.”

“All you need to do is tell her about your adventures with the Doctor. That should be fanciful enough,” he pointed out. “No child will believe that the United Kingdom being carried on the back of a star whale is real, nor will they believe that there are aliens that look like huge eyes that are hunting for Prisoner Zero, who can only shape shift into coma patients.”

“Good point,” she said thoughtfully, lowering her book again. “I could write stories based on my adventures, disguise them as fiction, and no one would ever know.”

“Maybe you should. It will give you something to do when you’re heavily pregnant and can’t model.”

“Are you implying I’m going to be ugly when I’m pregnant?” she said darkly. 

“No, but I know you. You’ll go into full nesting mode. Modeling will be the last thing on your mind.”

She looked at him for a moment then sighed. “You have a point.”

“Of course I do,” he said, turning away from her and shutting his eyes. “Enjoy your book.”

“Oh, I will,” she replied.

He fell asleep not that long afterwards and stayed asleep the rest of the flight. They got off the plane in New York and had five hours to wait for their next flight, so Amy suggested they go get Sherlock more appropriate clothing for the trip. It was two hours of hell for him and the only thing that made it worth it was she promised to buy him an Armani suit as well. It had taken an hour of the time to convince him to wear linen pants since he vehemently opposed wearing shorts, and by the time they were done he decided he never wanted to wear anything other than suits or slacks and dress shirts in public for the rest of his life if it would avoid the near arguments he'd had in the store.

She showed them a few places she had found when she visited the city in January, and they killed time by exploring them. Then it was back to the airport and one more flight before they landed in Utah. Amy picked up the rental car and John got the GPS, plugged the coordinates in, and off they drove. After a while John tapped Amy on the shoulder. “This is it,” he replied.

She looked up ahead and saw a station wagon parked ahead with someone lounging on the hood. “Bet that’s him,” she said, pointing. She pulled up behind it and the three of them got out. “Hey!” she called out. The man got off the hood, fixed the hat on his head, and then tipped it up. “Told you it was him,” she said with a laugh. She ran up to him and hugged him, and he lifted her off the ground. John came over next and shook his hand as soon as he let Amy go, followed by Sherlock doing the same. “Nice hat,” she replied.

“I wear a Stetson now. Stetsons are cool,” he said. Before he could say anything else, though, there was a bang, and the Stetson flew off his head. Amy jumped, but Sherlock and John had been around guns and gunfire long enough not to startle at the sound too much. They both quickly turned in the direction of the shot, looking past the Doctor. Sherlock saw River blowing on the barrel of the gun she had fired. He had only met her once, but he had seen what she had done to the fez he had smuggled out of the museum, tossing it in the air on the next planet they landed on and blowing it to smithereens, and he remembered the conversation that followed. He had a feeling she would do this with any hat the Doctor owned that she didn’t like. Sherlock reached down and picked it up as it fell down by his feet and handed it back.

The Doctor examined the bullet hole in it. “River, stop killing my hats!” he called towards the direction of where the shot rang out.

“Fezzes, Stetsons…next you’ll try a safari hat and I’ll barely make a dent in it,” she teased. “That was an excellent shot though, wasn’t it?”

“Impressive,” John said with a nod.

“Long time no see everyone,” she said with a smile before Amy ran up and gave her a hug. She hugged her back and then held her at arm’s length. “Settled down is good for you.”

“Settled down is right,” she said, a certain look in her eye.

“News?” River asked, eyes wide.

“He asked,” she replied, pointing at Sherlock.

“And here goes the shrieking,” Sherlock muttered, rolling his eyes.

“Really?” River said excitedly. “Congratulations, dear. And you too, Sherlock.” She went over to him and offered him her hand, which he shook. “And for your information, I’m not a shrieker…most of the time.”

“River,” the Doctor said exasperatedly.

“What?” she asked innocently. “It’s not like they don’t—“

“ _River,_ ” he said again, blushing slightly.

She went back over to him and pinched his cheek. “You’re such a prude. That’s what I love most about you. And getting to cause you to turn all red just makes my day that much brighter.” Then she turned to John. “You’re new. I’m River Song.” She held out her hand.

He shook it. “John Watson. Heard an awful lot about you.”

“None of it bad, I hope?” she asked with a smile.

“Once I got past the fact that you’re locked up you seemed to be a very intriguing person,” he said with a grin of his own.

River turned to Amy. “Does he know why I’m in prison?” she asked.

She nodded. “Yeah. I mean, it was the only way for him to understand why the Doctor can break you out.”

“Ah. That’s good,” she said with a nod before looking at the Doctor. Sherlock happened to be glancing at the two of them and could see something in their gaze that made him begin to suspect that the day would not have a happy end. But then it was gone and both River and the Doctor wore smiles.

“I have food and a blanket,” he replied after looking away from River. He gestured to the car. “Figured we could have a picnic first.”

“Someone let you drive?” Amy said, raising an eyebrow.

“No, it was left here an hour ago,” he said. “Come on, off we go. Just take the basket and pick a nice spot by the lake. Drive down there. I need to talk to River alone for a moment.” He moved to the car and picked up a basket and blanket, handing the basket to John and the blanket to Amy. 

“Don’t flirt all day!” Amy shouted at them as the three of them walked back to the car. They got in and then drove off the road in the direction he pointed.

“This looks like a decent place,” John said after they drove for a few minutes. They had a good view of the lake, and there didn’t seem to be as many rocks there. He parked and they got out.

Amy laid down the blanket, and then moved over to the basket. ‘Not a bad spread,” she said after picking through it. Then she turned to Sherlock. “You look thoroughly uncomfortable.”

“I am,” he grumbled. He reached over to the basket and picked out a bottle of water, taking a long drink from it. “It’s hot and I’m still not too keen on these clothes.”

“You look good in casual, though,” she said.

“Don’t expect me to wear this style again,” he said.

“Oh, I’ll find a way to get you back into those denim trousers you tried on at the store,” she said mischievously, reaching over for her own bottle of water. “I really liked how those looked.”

He turned and looked at where River and the Doctor were coming from. Once they got out of the car he noticed that something had happened to change the mood. He could see it in the way they walked, the way they were conversing with each other, and as they got closer the smiles they wore looked thoroughly fake. Something was going to happen and it wasn’t going to be pleasant, and he had a good idea what it was.

They all chatted to varying degrees as they ate for the next forty minutes. The conversation did not have the same general flow their conversations usually had, though the Doctor and River were trying hard to make it look and feel like old times. Even Amy seemed to notice, what with her attempts to ward off awkward silence.

It was John who happened to be looking at the lake when it started. “What the bloody hell is that?”

They all turned to face the water, where a person in a space suit was emerging. The Doctor stood up and dusted himself off. “Whatever you do, whatever you see, do not interfere.” He didn’t look at any of them as he said it, nor did he look back at them as he made his way to the waiting figure by the water. 

They all stood up and Amy took a step towards him, but Sherlock was quick and grabbed her, and then pinned her against him. “You can’t interfere,” he murmured.

“But she’s going to—“ she said. He knew then that she knew precisely what was happening. They were about to watch the Doctor die. He glanced back at River, who was standing next to John and holding onto his arm. He had started to move to the water as well, and while he knew River had murdered the Doctor he had not been given any warning that it was a time off like he and Amy had, though Sherlock would admit it didn’t seem that long ago since they were told.

Amy turned and buried her face in Sherlock’s chest, and he could feel dampness on his shirt. He watched as the astronaut, who they all knew was River, fired one shot at the Doctor, and when he began to glow, fired the second shot, and he fell down dead. Then she went back into the lake, and all that could be heard were Amy’s sobs.

River spoke quietly to John and they made their way back up to where the cars were parked. After a few minutes he came back carrying things to make fire burn better, and River carried gasoline. Amy had let go of Sherlock by then and gone to the body. “There are people who would do anything to have the body of a Time Lord,” she told him. She pointed to the canoe that was at the lake. “That was left here by a friend, for us to use for his body.”

“We’re to burn him on the lake,” he replied.

“Yes. He would not want his body falling into the hands of his enemies, and I won’t let that happen,” She said. Then she handed him the gasoline. “Let me tend to Amy. Go get the rest of the wood from the station wagon.” He watched River walk over to her and spoke to her softly. They stood up and River hugged her tightly, continuing to talk to her softly as the men got everything ready.

It took some time, but as night fell they lit the wood on fire and let it float out onto the lake surface. Amy stood at the front, watching with great sadness etched on her face. As the barge moved and the flames burned themselves out they turned to River for guidance, and all she said was to go home, that more would be revealed later, and she’d join them. They got back into the car in silence, and spent most of the trip home lost in their own thoughts.

When they arrived back at the flat Sherlock and John shared, the three of them convened in the kitchen. John got down the still mostly full bottle of brandy and poured a glass. He nodded to Amelia, who went to the fridge and got out a bottle of juice and a bottle of water, handing the water to Sherlock and pouring herself a glass of juice. “To the Doctor,” John said, raising his glass. The others tapped their drinks to it, and they all took a long drink.

“I can’t believe he’s gone,” Amy said quietly. “It’s going to be so strange, knowing he won’t pop around for a visit.”

“As he’s said before, everyone dies one day,” Sherlock said quietly.

“I know, but he’d said he had time. This wasn’t enough time.” She sighed and finished her juice. “I’m going to go lie down. Come with?”

Sherlock nodded, and they went towards his room. Amy took off her shoes and stripped down to the vest she’d had underneath her shirt and her knickers, and then laid down on his bed and pulled the cover up before rolling onto her side and curling up. He sat on the bed next to her. “I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault. It was a fixed point in time. I know what that means.” She looked at him, then reached over and put her hand on his. “I’m glad he came back for me. Even with the times I was in danger, I would have been far worse off if he’d forgotten about me and left me behind.”

“I’m glad to have met him as well,” he replied. “My life would not be the same if he hadn’t been around.”

“I probably would have sought you out eventually,” she said.

“But most likely after you were already married,” he pointed out.

“True.” She squeezed his hand, then pulled it back and curled up more. “I was thinking, on the way home. About a lot of things.”

“And?” he said, his entire body clenching slightly at the prospect of bad news.

“I want a long engagement. I just want to enjoy it and put off all the details for a while. And I don’t really need a ring. I don’t want the world at large to know right now.”

He relaxed and nodded. This was probably a smart decision to make. “All right.”

“I’m still going to marry you. Soon, not way off into the future.” She yawned, and shut her eyes. “I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” he said a small smile on his face.

“Okay.” He sat next to her as she drifted off to sleep before leaving and shutting the door behind him. Life would move on, he knew, and he also knew that, after a little while, she would be fine. That was all that mattered. He went out to the kitchen and joined John.

“How is she?” he asked.

“I think she’ll be fine,” he replied. 

“Good,” he replied with a nod. “I’m going to miss the adventures.”

“I will as well,” he replied, going back to his bottle of water. “Sometimes they came at inopportune times, and more than once I was running across some alien planet away from trouble, but if it wasn’t for the Doctor I wouldn’t have Amelia in my life the way she is now. I owe him for that.”

“Pay your debt by making her happy,” he replied. “That’s what the Doctor would want.”

“I know. And I intend to do just that.” He looked at John. “I suppose we’ll just have to find adventure through more conventional means.”

“I suppose so,” he said with a nod. He went over to Sherlock and clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m going to get some sleep as well. Night.”

“Good night,” he replied. When he was all by himself he felt the thoughts swarm back on him, the ones that gave him a headache, and with a sigh he went into his room, stripped down, and laid down beside Amelia, pulling her close. For now he would sleep, and see what happened in the morning.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning River came by and visited, and she explained as much as she was able to about the circumstances of his death. It seemed more like it was done to give Amy some more closure, and it seemed to work, though not quickly. Things had settled down once again, and there was a routine established that did not include jaunts away from London in a flying time machine. Amy has seemed to take the longest to get back to a sense of normalcy, and some of her behaviors concerned Sherlock. He had tried to broach the idea to John, but he didn’t see anything wrong, saying she needed to grieve the loss of her friend in her own way and through her own time. After a while Sherlock thought less and less of it, though it still stayed at the far reaches of his mind.

Three months had passed since the Doctor’s death. River came around a bit more regularly, and would usually chat with Amy about how things were going in life and chat with John about various things they both were interested in. When it came to Sherlock it was all about science and archaeology and things that stimulated his mind. He appreciated it, and found himself looking forward to her visits. He still had his cases, but talking to River seemed almost like talking to an equal, though even she admitted she was not as brilliant as he was.

It was an afternoon late in July when Sherlock opened up the door to his flat to let him, Amy and John in, only to find the Doctor there, a serious look on his face. River stood nearby, also looking serious. Amy was the first to comment. “You’re supposed to be dead!” she said, shocked.

“He must have faked his death,” Sherlock said, surprised he hadn’t thought of that as a viable option.

The Doctor nodded. He looked at Amy, and then at Sherlock. “Do you trust me?” he asked him.

“Yes,” he replied without hesitation.

“Has anything seemed…off…about Amy? Anything you can recall?”

“Doctor, I’m right here,” she said, exasperated.

“No you’re not,” he said.

Sherlock thought, well and truly thought. Yes, there were little things, here and there, but he had brushed them off as adjusting to not adventuring with the Doctor anymore, and then later to his death. How could he have been so _blind_? “Yes,” he said. “But I had chalked it up to the change of not being with you, and then your death.”

“I did too, at first. Or at least the bit about not traveling with me. But the last time she was on the TARDIS, I scanned her after she had one of those attacks. Unfortunately it was almost my time to die, so I wasn’t able to alert you. I had left a note but apparently you never got it. River found it after the fact and started tracking me down while keeping tabs on all of you. I’ve only just now been able to get back. Amy had complained of feeling unwell, and I wanted to check.”

“The strange feeling, like she was being kicked from the inside,” he murmured.

“Yes. It’s because she was. She’s pregnant, and those feelings were the baby kicking.”

“I’m not pregnant! I checked again three days ago,” she said.

“But you are. But not _you_. This is simply a Flesh duplicate.” He moved over to Amy. “Amelia, listen. We are coming for you. No matter how far we have to look, we will find you.”

“Sherlock,” she said, frantic, turning to him. “It’s really me. Please believe me.”

“Show me,” he said to the Doctor without looking away from Amy.

The Doctor pointed his sonic screwdriver at her, and pressed a button. Amy changed into a milky white person shaped blob, then splashed down as it collapsed. “I’m sorry, Sherlock,” he said.

“I don’t understand,” John said. “That wasn’t the real Amy? What happened to her?”

“I have enemies who would like nothing more than to hurt me, and they’ve gone about it through the ones I love,” he said. “The real Amy was kidnapped during her trip to New York. She was linked up with this duplicate. When I scanned her, it kept bouncing back between positive and negative for her pregnancy. And there were other things, little things. But two weeks later it was time for me to die, so I had to arrange it all and wasn’t able to confront her or bring it to your attention.”

Sherlock felt numb, and it took him a moment to realize River had come up to him. “I’m here because I have something important to tell you. You find Amy, and you find your daughter. You get to raise her in a normal childhood, though she’s a unique girl. But there was an imprint put on her brain when she was an infant, and she changes. She kills someone, and gets sent to prison for the murder.”

“What do you mean?” he asked sharply. Normally his brain would have comprehended what she was saying but right now it was filled with loss. Amelia was not here, and the whole time he had been dealing with a fake, though the way the Doctor had talked to her at the end it seemed as though the real Amelia was able to see and hear everything going on.

“Your child was conceived on the TARDIS,” she said slowly. “It makes her a very special girl, with Time Lord DNA. When she’s twenty she’ll be forced to regenerate, as the Doctor was doing when I killed him, and then she will be abducted and the imprint will kick in and she will murder the Doctor.”

He stared at her, his mouth wide. Surely she wasn’t telling him…? “You’re my daughter,” he said quietly.

“Hello, Dad,” she said, a slight smile on her face.

And suddenly things clicked in his head, as though he had gotten the last piece of a grand puzzle. “And that’s why you checked on us that afternoon. Why you distracted the Doctor,” he said.

She nodded. “I needed to make sure you had your first time that day, while the TARDIS was in flight. When I saw Amy on her trip to see Vincent van Gogh and she wasn’t pregnant I thought it must have been another time I was conceived. But I had a talk with the Doctor when I tracked him down and we went through everything together and realized what had happened.” She looked him in the eyes, and then reached over for his hand, squeezing it tightly. “You’ll find them. I have wonderful memories from my childhood. Just remember that.”

“You’re not going to help?” John asked.

“I can’t jeopardize this chain of events,” River said sadly. “All I can tell you is that it has to do with the Silence. The rest you’ll have to figure out on your own.” She leaned over and kissed Sherlock’s cheek gently. “Be strong. You _will_ find us. I promise.” She let go of his hand and moved to the side, pushed some buttons on a device on her wrist, and then she was gone.

The Doctor looked at him. “Are you okay?” he asked gently.

“Yes,” he said, looking at him and nodding, stowing the unwanted emotions in a dark corner of his mind so he could focus on the task at hand. “I want to get Amelia back as soon as possible.”

“You’re more than welcome to help me search from aboard the TARDIS.”

“Thank you,” he said.

“Don’t think about leaving me behind,” John said. “Is the real Amy anything like the Amy I got to know?”

“She’s exactly the same,” the Doctor said. “The real Amy was controlling the duplicate psychically. She acted just like the real Amy would, had all the same thoughts and feelings.”

“Well, I want to find her. I liked her. I’m sure the real Amy will be just as good to be around.”

“Then let’s start looking,” Sherlock replied, somewhat impatiently. He wanted to find her as soon as he could.

“Right. First stop is to learn all we can about the Silence,” he said. The three men headed back out the door and the Doctor led them to the TARDIS. Sherlock stood in the doorway for a moment, staring at his home. He vowed to himself he would bring his family home no matter what it took, and with that he stepped inside and shut the door behind him.

The Doctor flipped on some controls and then looked at the two men. “I brought along some help,” he said. “And I’ll be getting some more. Old companions and people who owe me favors. One of them is already here, somewhere.” He looked towards the corridor. “Jack!” he called out.

“Hey, are we moving?” a male voice said from the corridor by the stairs in an American accent. After a moment a man walked out. Older than the Doctor, but still young, with brown hair and a grin on his face Sherlock thought was not right for the occasion before he reminded himself that he most likely didn’t know Amelia. He had on a crisp white shirt and dark blue slacks, and a naval jacket on. When he caught sight of the two men his smile dimmed. “She really was a duplicate?” he said.

The Doctor nodded. “I’m afraid so. Jack Harkness, meet Sherlock Holmes and John Watson.”

John went over and shook his hand, and Sherlock gave him a nod. “How do you do?” John said.

“Been better,” he replied. “The Doctor told me you’d need some help, so I figured I’d put my life experiences to good use and tag along. I hope I can do something.”

“Jack is an old friend,” he replied. “He has contacts I don’t, from his life spent as a con man, his time in Torchwood and his own travels. If we can’t use River then he’s our next best option.”

“I was in the library doing some research,” he replied with a nod. “River told me what to look for before you went to collect them. All I can figure out is that the Silence is an organization of some sort. But they’re incredibly secret about what they do. There isn’t much out there in records.”

“I figured as much,” the Doctor replied. “If we can figure out what type, it would be a start.”

Something clicked for Sherlock. “It’s a religious organization,” he said suddenly. Everyone turned to him. “I need to go back to my flat for a moment.”

“All right,” the Doctor replied. He fiddled with the controls, and once the TARDIS had landed he left and went back to his flat. He had been trying to be tidier and more organized, and for once he was thankful for John’s suggestions on the matter. Within moments he had his hands on the pertinent file. He grabbed something else he might need and hurried back to the TARDIS. “I’ve got it,” he said as he shut the doors behind him.

The Doctor put them back into flight again and motioned for all of them to follow him. Sherlock recognized where they were heading, and wasn’t surprised when he opened the door to the library. It was a mess of sorts, and he could tell that someone had indeed been doing some research. They went to the only relatively clean table in the room and Sherlock opened his file and pulled out a picture of a person with an eye patch on.

“I didn’t get much out of him before his eye patch sent an electrical charge that killed him, but he said he was with the Silence, a religious order formed to stop something. This is everything I could find out about the man,” he said, handing the Doctor a sheet of paper.

He read through it quickly. “There are gaps in his background, probably from the fact that he’s not from this time period and it all had to be fabricated.” He looked away from the paper and pointed to the tattoo on his neck in the photo. It was a complicated series of dots and swirls with no discernable shape. “That’s a symbol of the Asturian Monks from the planet Hordoron. Their order doesn’t begin to form for another thousand years from your point of view.”

“Yes, but why would he be here, at this particular time?” John asked.

“To spy on Amy and me,” Sherlock said. The Doctor looked at him and nodded slowly, but Jack and John still looked slightly confused. “River Song kills the Doctor at Lake Silencio, but before she does that she’s raised by her parents for twenty years. Before _that_ her mother is kidnapped and replaced with a flesh duplicate. Therefore, the Silence wanted to make sure they could get to Amy before she told me she was pregnant so they could plant the duplicate without me knowing the difference.” He scowled. “I hate to admit it but that’s clever.”

“The religious order was formed to stop something that involved me,” the Doctor replied, “and they had to outsmart the both of us. That’s a very hard thing to do if you don’t do reconnaissance first.”

“Yeah, but what do they want to stop?” Jack asked.

“I don’t know. It is probably important, but I don’t know how it relates to finding Amy.” The Doctor went back to looking at the sheet, reading it quickly. “This happened at the end of December?” he asked Sherlock without looking up.

Sherlock nodded. “Two days after Christmas. I had noticed him following us the week before Christmas. Amelia wrote him off as paparazzi but I didn’t see him with a camera any of the times he was around.”

“And you are sure this address is where he lived?”

“I tracked him down there. That was where he died. ”

“Then that’s where we need to go,” he replied, handing him back the paper. “What time of day did you finish searching his place?”

“Around one in the afternoon. But I did it before he died. And I suspect if we go there the next day it will be empty.”

“Yes, then it might be too late,” the Doctor agreed.” How thoroughly did you search?”

“I wasn’t finished when he arrived home, so not as thoroughly as I would have liked.”

The Doctor thought for a moment. “All right. Sit down, Sherlock.” Sherlock sat down, and the Doctor placed his fingers on each side of his temple. “Go back to that day. Think about searching the room.” Sherlock shut his eyes and pulled up every detail in his mind he could think of. He felt a strange sensation, of something else hovering in his mind. He started to turn his thoughts towards it. “It’s just me,” the Doctor replied. “Don’t fight me.”

Sherlock relaxed and finished pulling up the details of the room search. When he was done he felt the Doctor move his hands away and the other presence leave his mind. “Well?” he asked, curious as to what exactly had just happened.

“We need to get into the room,” he replied sourly. “We probably need to go before you get there, Sherlock. I need a better look at some of the papers. You didn’t understand them so you barely glanced at them, but I recognized some of what they said.”

“The ones that looked like gibberish?” he said. The Doctor nodded. “What were they?”

“Instructions, written in the language the monks whose order he’s part of use when they want to pass along secret messages. It’s in code, so even with the TARDIS translation virus you still wouldn’t be able to understand it.” The Doctor turned around and left the library, the others following with Sherlock at the back, having gathered up his file. When he made it to the console room the Doctor looked at him. “Exactly what day and time did you enter his quarters?”

“December 27th, at 12:15 in the afternoon,” he replied.

“I’ll get us there at eleven, then, so I have some time there.” He went to work on the controls, and then stopped as the TARDIS landed. “Jack, come with me. I need you as a look-out.” He went to the doors with Jack following, leaving Sherlock and John alone on the TARDIS.

“Are you _really_ okay?” John asked, looking at Sherlock intently.

“No,” he said, quietly, a frown on his face. “I don’t like being fooled, and I especially don’t like the idea that Amelia is out there somewhere, pregnant and alone and captive, and I can’t save her right now. It’s like my worst fear come true.” He sat on the chair near the console and put his head in his hands for a moment, then lifted his head up and put his hands together, resting his chin on his knuckles. “This is not going to be a pleasant time for her, since she’s no longer connected to us. I want to get her home as soon as I can, and I’m afraid that may take a while.”

“But you find her. River told you that much,” John pointed out.

“I know,” he said. “But Amelia is already eight months pregnant. If they are able to imprint my daughter at birth, it means we won’t find her quickly enough. It means it will take at least a month’s wait.”

John came over to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “But remember, you already know you find her. She may not be the same, but in the end you’ll have your family back.” Sherlock looked up at him. “That’s what you need to keep at the forefront of your mind through the time it takes to get to them.”

“My family,” he said quietly. “You know, in the few days around the trip to Utah when I merely thought she could be pregnant I didn’t really think of the idea of her and my child being family. Now that I know, now that River told me the truth…now that’s all I can think of them as. _My_ family. The ones I actually want to be related to. And my own daughter…” He frowned. “I don’t know if I should tell Amelia about this.”

“I would,” he said. “In twenty years she’s going to be gone, and then she’ll be in prison. Amy needs to know.”

“You’re right,” he said with a sigh. “But after all this, to tell her she only gets twenty years with her daughter? It’s cruel.”

“Maybe River can tell her,” he said with a slight shrug.

“Perhaps,” he said. “I also find myself wondering how much Amelia will remember from what happened with the duplicate, how much she’ll agree with or to when we find her.”

“If she was linked to the duplicate, she’ll probably remember it all. I can’t see her not wanting to marry you after all this.”

“But I let her get taken,” he replied, looking at him.

“No, you didn’t,” he said. “She’s a grown woman, who makes decisions on her own. She decided to take the job in New York. There was no way you could have known any of this was afoot. You didn’t _let_ anything happen to her. Take it out on the Silence when we get a hold of them. If anyone deserves the blame for this it’s them.”

“I suppose you’re right,” he said thoughtfully. He lapsed into silence, and John knew him well enough to know it was for the best. They waited, and forty minutes later the Doctor and Jack came back in, the Doctor with a grin on his face. “Well?” he asked, standing up.

“His orders were not coming from his order of monks,” he replied. “They were coming from a M. Kovarian. But it seemed as though they might know something. He also had a letter from one of his brother monks about changes. I suggest we go pay them a visit.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Jack said as the Doctor went to the controls.

“Asturian Monks, here we come,” the Doctor replied, and with that they were off. The Asturian Monks were a dead end, except for the fact that they had allied themselves with the Headless Monks. The Doctor said that could be important, but the Headless Monks did not provide answers to questions, as they did not have heads. So they went back to the drawing board, so to speak, and delved into more research. Or rather, Sherlock and John put the vast library of the Doctor’s home to work while he and Jack talked to their contacts. It was slow going, and Sherlock found himself getting anxious. He just hoped they would get a lead that would actually pan out, and soon, or else he was quite sure he might go mad.


	4. Chapter 4

Four weeks had passed when the Doctor decided they needed more help on board the TARDIS. Both he and Jack were reaching the end of the contacts who might know anything about the Silence or a kidnapped woman. Jack had gone off to question his last contact, though he had been skeptical that it would work. The Doctor had made some calls the day before and found two people with more information. He seemed downright happy about it, too, mentioning that one was a former companion of his old regeneration, and the other had been an occasional companion as well. Sherlock was simply happy that there was help coming with possible new leads.

He had taken a break from pacing in the library after he’d gone through another useless book and gone to the console room when the Doctor went to pick up the information. He came back to the TARDIS with a spring in his step. “There are times I really love UNIT,” he said with a grin, holding up a flash drive.

“UNIT is a military organization,” Sherlock said after thinking for a moment.

“Yes. Both Mickey Smith and Martha Jones work for them. Though she’s Martha Smith-Jones now. I would have been back sooner but they wanted to catch up and show off their daughter. Little girl’s going to be just like her mother, I gather. Martha’s done great things.”

Sherlock blinked. He knew Mickey Smith. Mickey was one of his contacts in UNIT, one of the few who gave information freely. He should have thought to ask him, but apparently he hadn’t been thinking straight. “What were they able to tell you?” he asked.

“The Silence has been talked about in UNIT some,” he replied. “When I contacted them yesterday they gathered up as much information as they could.” He tossed the flash drive in the air and caught it easily. “This is everything they could get.”

“Hopefully it will help,” she replied. 

“I have to make another stop,” the Doctor said. Then he looked at Sherlock closely. “You’ve been awake for two days straight, Sherlock. Why don’t you try and get some sleep?”

“I try and sleep,” he replied. “It doesn’t come easily.”

“You’ll do Amelia no good if you fall asleep on her when we find her,” he said. “I’m going to need your help in rescuing her, after all. So go. Try to get at least a few hours rest.”

Sherlock looked at him and nodded. The Doctor was right: if the information that Mickey and his wife gave helped, they would be close to finding her. If he fell over his feet it would do none of them any good. He turned and went to Amelia’s old room. The Doctor had kept it exactly the same as she had left it, even down to the flower in the vase. He sat on the bed, and then after a moment lay down. Being in the room made him feel closer to her, made the void left by her not being there feel a bit smaller. He reached up and traced the petals of one of the flowers with his finger and sighed before shutting his eyes and attempting to get some sleep.

When he woke up he found only four hours had passed, but he felt no more refreshed than he had before. He had given up on the nicotine patches over the last month when he found he was using so many it made him sick to his stomach. Now he usually snuck off and actually had a cigarette when he needed one in a room the Doctor had designated for it. Most times he was alone, but sometimes Jack would join him.

Jack Harkness intrigued him. An immortal pansexual who had had many adventures in his own right, he was a fascinating man. Right off the bat, though, Jack had said he hadn’t needed to worry about any undue attraction; he was still mourning his last lover, who had died in an alien attack. Sherlock vaguely remembered Mycroft talking about an organization called Torchwood and its much maligned man in charge, but he had chalked it up to Mycroft’s boring work. It had not affected him personally so he stowed it away along with all the other trivialities he encountered in his life. When it was just him and Jack they spoke of many things, and he found himself able to relax a bit around him because Jack would do his level best to take his mind off of things. He was almost like John in that regard, only less grumpy.

He got off the bed and grabbed the pack of cigarettes by the bed as well as his lighter. He made his way down to the room, only to find Jack there, halfway through a cigarette. “How did it go?” Sherlock asked him as he sat down on one of the chairs there. He could hazard a guess from his posture and expression that it hadn’t gone well, but he wanted clarification.

“Struck out,” he replied, taking a drag of his cigarette.

Sherlock put one in his mouth and lit it, inhaling deeply. He exhaled and looked at Jack. “I didn’t think that particular contact would help.”

“Well, he didn’t help with this problem, but he helped with another,” he said. “They can commune with the dead. I got some closure for a few deaths which have haunted me.”

“Oh?” he replied, intrigued.

“Ianto isn’t the only person close to me that I’ve lost,” Jack said. “I may have to reconsider my opinions on the afterlife after today. They all seem to be doing well. Gwen should be happy to hear it. She was friends with them, too.”

Sherlock nodded before he took another drag. The happy, carefree exterior he wore hid a fundamentally hurt person underneath. It almost reminded him of the type of façade he could put on if needed, though his veered in the other direction. He knew Jack’s actions those few days had torn his world apart, and he did not envy the guilt he carried around. His own guilt was much smaller and still it felt like a heavy burden around his neck. “I think your friend would appreciate it.”

“I looked at them like family, and it’s not good to lose your family,” he replied with a nod. Sherlock looked at him, and he winced slightly. “Sorry.”

“My family was stolen from me. There’s a difference,” he replied as he exhaled.

“I picked up something else, too,” Jack replied. He reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a small jewelry box. He handed the case to Sherlock, who took it and opened it. Inside was a ring with a fairly decent sized white stone that sparkled more than a diamond did, with two small green stones on either side that resembled emeralds but glistened more than a usual emerald would. “In case you feel like asking her again. Always good to have a ring on hand.”

“I don’t know if she’d say yes,” he said, closing the box and putting it in his pocket. “Not after this.”

“She will,” he replied, taking the rest of his cigarette and putting it out in the ashtray near him. “You aren’t just leaving her to that fate. She’ll remember that.” He put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed for a moment, then left the room. Sherlock continued his cigarette, and when he was almost done he pulled the box out again and looked at it. Jack had never met Amy, but he had picked out something that he knew she would like. He ran his finger on top of the stones, then closed the lid again and stood up before putting out his cigarette. He took it back to his room and put the box holding the ring on the nightstand, to be safe until he got the opportunity to ask her again.

Having done that he went back to the library. The Doctor was there, as were Jack and John. Soon they were going to need to find other libraries, or else more of the things they needed for research were going to have to come to them. John waved him over to the computer he was at. “We may have found a solid lead,” the Doctor replied.

“Now that Torchwood has been disbanded UNIT took over some of its functions,” Jack said. “That includes dealing with aliens and alien tech.”

“They got a hold of one of the eye patches that all agents of the Silence wear,” John said. “It’s so they can view the aliens that work with them and still remember them afterwards. To a normal person, as soon as you look away you forget about them. Anyway, the person they got it from said a Madame Kovarian had commissioned the eye patches from him, and she was using a dealer named Dorium.”

“M. Kovarian,” Sherlock murmured.

“And this just happened last week,” Jack added.

“I knew sooner or later Dorium’s name would pop up in this mess,” the Doctor said, shaking his head. “I’ll handle Dorium. He owes me a few favors. This is a good, solid lead. I can feel it.”

“I want to go with you,” Sherlock said to the Doctor, looking at him intently. 

The Doctor looked back, and then nodded slowly. “All right. Let’s go now.” The two of them went to the console room, and the Doctor went to the controls, setting their coordinates. After a moment the TARDIS landed, and he opened the door and stepped out, Sherlock behind him. They walked into the building to find it empty, and a large blue-skinned man gathering up some precious gems off a table with his back to them. “Hello, Dorium,” the Doctor said, his voice cool.

He jumped slightly and turned, his eyes wide. “Oh no,” he said quietly.

“Oh yes,” the Doctor replied. “We need some information, about a Madame Kovarian.”

“And what makes you think I will give it to you?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“I am very angry that she has taken my friend. I am not nearly as angry as this man is, though.” He looked at Sherlock, who glared at Dorium. “Does the name Sherlock Holmes mean anything to you?”

It appeared as though Dorium paled. At any rate he began to perspire. “ _The_ Sherlock Holmes? From the twenty-first century of Earth?”

“Yes, that would be me,” he replied, his voice low and dangerous.

“I didn’t know that you would be involved,” he said quickly. “Those who keep an eye on Earth’s criminal activities said you beat the great Moriarty into a coma.”

“I did. He made the mistake of strapping a bomb to my fiancée’s chest,” he said. “The same fiancée who happens to be the pregnant woman that the Silence has kidnapped, and she is pregnant with my child.” He took a few steps closer. “So you’re going to tell me everything I need to know so you can walk out of here on your own two feet,” he added, his voice even quieter than before.

Dorium gulped. “Madame Kovarian’s whole operation is based off an asteroid, but it’s untraceable. Few know where it is, Demon’s Run. The Cybermen of the Twelfth Cyber Legion might know. But if I were you I would hurry; she paid me a visit just yesterday, needing medical equipment for a newborn baby.”

“What type of medical equipment?” the Doctor asked as Sherlock tensed.

“Nothing that a newborn wouldn’t need,” he said hastily. “Nothing to indicate that anything is wrong with the baby.”

Sherlock relaxed. “You had best hope nothing is wrong with my child.”

The Doctor looked at Dorium. “Come along, Dorium.”

“But he said if I told you I’d get to walk out of here,” he replied, panicked now.

“He didn’t say where to, though. I want you where I can keep an eye on you, and where she can’t find you.” The Doctor looked at him. “Now, are you going to do this of your own volition or is he going to have to make you?” He turned to Sherlock, who cracked a knuckle.

Dorium sighed. “I’ll go with you. But you better have an army backing you or you’ll never succeed.”

“I don’t need an army,” he replied. He motioned for Dorium to start walking, and he and Sherlock followed behind. “I will need more help, though,” he said to Sherlock quietly.

“Can you get it?” he asked, keeping an eye on Dorium.

“Of course.” He paused. “I didn’t know all that, about the bomb and you beating a man into a coma.”

“I hadn’t planned on making a secret of it, but Amelia didn’t want to worry you.” He shrugged slightly. “I do not like it when people hurt the things or people I care about.”

“Promise me you won’t kill anybody when we get her back.”

“If I can help it I won’t.” The Doctor made a noise and Sherlock turned to him. “If I was a soldier, trained to kill to protect something of value, would you tell me not to kill to get it back if it had been stolen?”

“No,” he said slowly. “But I don’t like it.”

“I don’t either. But I will do whatever it takes to get Amelia back, and if someone has to die by my hand then that will simply be the way it has to be. I can promise to try not to, but that’s all.”

The Doctor sighed. “At least let me plan to try and do this without losing any lives.”

“Of course,” he said as they got to the TARDIS. 

The Doctor went and opened the door, and the three of them walked in. Jack had come into the console room and grinned at Dorium, who scowled back at him. “He’s coming with us?” he asked.

“Yes. I thought it would be prudent. Keep an eye on him?”

“Sure,” he replied. “He and I have business to discuss anyway.” He pointed to the stairs, and Dorium headed in that direction, Jack right behind him.

“Who else are you planning on getting?” Sherlock asked.

“A few old friends,” he replied. “Need to make a few trips: Victorian England, World War II London, the Battle of Zaruthstra and then I need to try and track down Captain Avery, wherever it is in space that he is.”

“That’s the pirate captain you helped in the last adventure you had with Amy before she moved to London,” he said.

The Doctor nodded. “He said if I needed a favor he would gladly give it to me. And I need a favor.” He began to do things to the console, and he was quiet for a moment. “I need to go to World War II London first, talk to Winston and Bracewell first. I still need to find out exactly where Demon’s Run is.”

“Bracewell?” Sherlock asked, surprised. “May I accompany you again?”

“Yes,” he replied. “Why?”

“Because I think I’m supposed to,” he replied. 

The Doctor looked at him strangely for a moment, and then nodded. The TARDIS lurched to a stop, and he opened the doors. They were in the underground bunkers, and the Doctor weaved his way around until he came to the war room. “Winston! I need your help.”

“Doctor,” Winston Churchill said, lowering his cigar. “You’ve come at a fantastic time. The war’s over, lad!”

“I know. You did a good job, and you didn’t even need the Ironsides,” he said with a grin.

Churchill scowled. “Don’t mention those blasted things around me ever again.”

“Is Bracewell here?” he asked.

He nodded. “In his lab. He’s just returned from America.”

“Excellent.” The doctor nodded to Sherlock and they walked through the corridors until they stopped at a door. The doctor knocked, and then opened it. “Hello,” he replied.

Bracewell had worn a smile, but then it dropped to a frown. “You’ve come back to disassemble me,” he said.

“No, no, nothing of the sort,” the Doctor said, shaking his head as he and Sherlock stepped inside. “I need your help.”

“But I thought…” he replied.

“You’re perfectly fine,” the Doctor replied. “In fact, you’re going to do great things. But I need your Spitfires in space again.”

“All right,” he said with a nod. Then he paused. “Where’s the young lady?”

“She’s been taken,” Sherlock said quietly. “We’re trying to get her back.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” he replied. “And I’m rubbish at introductions. I’m Edwin Bracewell,” he said, extending his hand to Sherlock.

“Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes,” he replied, shaking it. “It’s a pleasure.”

Bracewell grinned at him briefly, and then turned to the Doctor. “I can help. Give me an hour.”

“Thank you,” he said, clapping Bracewell on the shoulder. “Send them up and I’ll take care of the rest. I’ll be back in an hour. Come along, Sherlock.” He walked towards the door, but Sherlock lingered.

“Is there something else?” Bracewell asked as the Doctor stopped in the doorway.

“You might want to work on disguising yourself as you are supposed to get older,” he suggested. “Just a suggestion.”

“Do I meet you in the future?” he asked.

Sherlock nodded. “When I’m a young boy. My father tracks you down.”

“Then I’ll be on the lookout for a Mr. Holmes,” he said, giving him a grin. “Good luck finding his friend.”

“Thank you,” he said, leaving the room. He caught up with the Doctor quickly, and they got on the TARDIS. “Now where?”

“Victorian England. I’ll handle this one alone,” he replied. He made his way to the controls, did the adjustments he needed, and then waited for it to land. He walked out the doors, and twenty minutes later a woman and an alien who resembled a walking lizard in Victorian-era clothing came in. The woman was carrying a case and the alien was chatting with the Doctor. “Sherlock Holmes, this is Madame Vastra and her maid, Jenny.”

Both women curtsied towards him, and he bowed slightly at the waist. “Excellent manners,” Madame Vastra said approvingly.

“I try,” he murmured.

“The Doctor tells me you are involved with the woman we’re looking for,” she replied. “I am sorry you’ve had to go through something like this.”

“Thank you,” he said. “Your help is greatly appreciated.”

“It is no problem at all,” she said as the Doctor went to the controls again. “How many more stops do we need to make, Doctor?”

“I need to pick up Strax, and then contact someone else. Then back to London to pick up the Spitfires and we can go find out where our friend is being held.” He looked at her. “Do you want to rest?”

She shook her head. “We can wait here.”

“Hopefully he can hear the TARDIS," the Doctor said, more to himself than others, as they landed. He went to the doors and opened them, and there was the sound of rapid gunfire to be heard. “I think he’ll hear it over the din.”

“There really is a battle going on outside,” Sherlock murmured, slightly surprised.

“Yes. Strax is a nurse, more as a form of punishment. Sontarans are fighters; it’s in their blood. Couldn’t keep him away from war so he’s a combat nurse.” About five minutes later they heard footsteps approaching and a squat alien with a pink head boarded. “Hello, Strax.”

“Is my punishment over?” he asked, his voice extremely hopeful.

He nodded. “I may still need your medic skills.”

“Of course,” he said. “Oh, it’s good to be able to fight again!”

“We need to rescue a friend,” he replied. “But first we need to find out where she is. And I’ll need your help with that. We need to pay a visit to the Cybermen of the Twelfth Cyber Legion.”

“Absolutely!” he replied. “It’s a good thing I’ve still practiced. One can never be too ready.”

“Excellent,” the Doctor replied. “Now I need to contact Captain Avery.” He went back to the controls, moved them to where he needed them, and then grabbed the phone. “Captain Avery! I need that favor you said I could have. I need to rescue Amy.” There was a pause. “I know. Stay where you’re at and send me the coordinates. I need to pick up one final group and then we can go find out her location and rescue her. Oh, you’ll be transporting the cavalry. They are aliens, so warn your men.” Another pause. “No, they won’t hurt them, but your men might get spooked.” He hung up, and then did the controls again. “I can send the codes to the Silurans once we get back to Earth.”

“How much longer?” Sherlock asked. Now that they were close, he was feeling impatient.

“Not much,” he said. He landed the TARDIS, went out the doors, and then came back in ten minutes later. “Oh, Bracewell is smart. He cracked how to get them to track coordinates in space. That will help immensely.”

Madame Vastra turned from her conversation with Strax to the Doctor. “Remember to alert my people,” she said.

“Right, right,” he replied, going to a screen and typing out a message. He sent it, then did the controls again, then went back to the phone. “Captain Avery, are they there? Excellent. I’m sending the coordinates of where we’re going. In twenty minutes, blast the outlying ships. Just not the biggest one, we’ll be on that.” A pause. “No, I mean destroy it. But give me twenty minutes.”

“Where are we going?” Sherlock asked.

“To pay a visit to the Cybermen,” he replied. He went back to the doors and looked at Strax. “Are you ready?”

Strax lowered the visor of his suit. “Yes,” he replied. 

“Excellent! We’ll be back shortly.” The Doctor opened the door and they left. The wait seemed endless, but exactly twenty minutes later the TARDIS rocked sharply. Within moments everyone else on board had come out to the console room, even Dorium. They were all talking amongst themselves five minutes later when the doors opened and the Doctor and Strax strolled back in. “I have the coordinates,” he said, going to the console.

“To where?” John asked.

“Demon’s Run,” he replied. “I need to set up my plan, but soon we’ll have Amy back.” He looked directly at Sherlock as he said that, and Sherlock nodded. “I promise.”

“Good,” he replied. He went quickly to his room and grabbed his coat. When he had gone back for his file he had grabbed his gun as well. He checked it, then put it back in his pocket and put his coat on. It was almost time. After a moment’s hesitation, he grabbed the jewelry box as well. If there was a moment, he would see, but only once she was safe. Now, he just needed to wait, and he hoped the wait didn’t kill him.


	5. Chapter 5

Within an hour the attack on the base started. Sherlock and John had gone off together in search of Amelia. It took them twenty minutes before John saw her in a large window overlooking the cargo bay where the soldiers were gathered. Then it was just a matter of them getting to her room, which took another twenty minutes. They found their way to the room and stopped around the corner. Sherlock looked into the hallway and saw two soldiers guarding the door. “On the count of three, we ambush the guards,” Sherlock said quietly when he looked back at John. “You take the short one on the left.”

“All right,” John said.

“And remember: no killing if you can help it.”

John checked his gun as Sherlock pulled out his. “Wounding is all right, though, correct?” he asked.

“Yes.” He took a breath as John finished. “One. Two. Three.” The two men sprung out from around the corner. John shot one of the guards in the shoulder, and was able to put him in a headlock and cut off his breathing. Sherlock shot the other guard in the leg and then cracked him on the head with the butt of his gun. When the two guards were out cold they began searching them for a keycard of some sort. Finding one, Sherlock went to the door. His hand was shaking slightly, but he got it in. The door opened, and he stepped in.

Immediately he ducked as a heavy canister hit where his head had been. “Amelia, it’s me” he said, and he heard a quiet shriek. He stood back up and looked in the direction where the canister had been thrown from. But within a moment there was a warm body pressed against him, hugging him tightly. He wrapped his arms around her and held her just as tight. “You’re safe,” he said, shutting his eyes for a moment and enjoying the feel of her, the real her, next to him again.

“They took our baby,” she said quietly, tears wetting his shirt, and then it registered that she was not heavily pregnant.

“I’ll find her,” he murmured.

“Don’t leave me here,” she said, lifting her head up. “Please. I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

“I won’t leave you here,” he said, letting go of her and framing her face in his hands. “You’re going to come with me, and I’m going to find her, I promise.”

“Sherlock!” John called out from the hallway. “I found someone trying to sneak in here.” He came into the doorway, his arm in a choke hold on a young female soldier.

“I know where your baby is!” she said, her voice raspy from her throat being crushed.

“She’s okay,” Amy said, moving away from Sherlock. She ran back to the table nearby and grabbed a piece of green silk cut into the shape of a flower. “She gave me this. She’s not really on their side. She just wants to meet the Doctor again.”

John looked at Amy, and then Sherlock, who nodded. He let her go. “My name is Lorna Bucket,” the soldier replied. “Madame Kovarian has your daughter, sir, and ma’am. She’s trying to escape on one of the ships downstairs.”

“Let’s go,” Sherlock said.

He and John stowed their guns, grabbed the weapons the two guards had and followed Lorna down a series of hallways at a run. It was almost like being in a maze, but Lorna knew her way around. They went back to the lower level, and then through a long hallway that branched off every few feet. After a few minutes she stopped at a corner. “Around the corner,” she whispered.

Sherlock looked, and saw two more soldiers and a woman in black leather with a case of some sort next to her. He turned back to Lorna. “Is she a brunette in leather?” he murmured. Lorna nodded. He looked over to John, and they stepped out into the hall. The guards were not doing their jobs properly, and they were taken down with a shot each to the shoulder, and then punched across the face until they were out cold. In respect to the Doctor, they did not kill them.

Madame Kovarian paused and then turned. “Ah. Sherlock Holmes, and his sidekick John Watson. A pleasure. I’m sorry to make this brief, but I have other things I need to do.” Her finger hovered over a button on the wall.

“What’s in the case?” Sherlock asked, leveling his weapon at her as John disarmed the soldiers and picked up their guns.

“A weapon,” she said with a smile. “The best weapon in the world, one crafted to rid the world of a menace.”

John got close, and then paused as he looked at the case. “She’s lying. It’s your daughter.”

Sherlock kept his weapon trained on her. “Give her back,” he said coldly.

“Do you think the two of you can stop the entire crew on this vessel?” She pushed the button and the door opened. She had turned and had an audible gasp as a pirate captain and a young boy appeared in the doorway.

“You were saying?” Sherlock said. Madame Kovarian sighed, and then raised her hands in surrender. “Amelia, come here.” Amy came from around the corner, with Lorna behind her. She moved slowly at first, but then more quickly as she got up to Sherlock. “Go get our daughter.”

Amy went over to Madam Kovarian, and the woman looked at her with a smirk on her face. Amy glared in response before opening the case and lifting the baby out. “Hello, Melody,” she said quietly, smiling at her daughter. She turned and went to Sherlock. “Meet Melody Pond,” she said.

“Hello,” he said quietly in the girl’s direction, not moving the arm which had his weapon trained on Madame Kovarian. He took a good look at his daughter, but then turned his attention back to Madame Kovarian. Something nagged at him. This all seemed too easy, far too easy. And his opponent seemed too smug for all this. “John, let’s bring everybody upstairs. The Doctor said he’d be in the control room.”

They all filed back down the corridor, Madame Kovarian and Lorna in front, Sherlock behind them, Amy and Melody behind him and John bringing up the rear. They arrived just as the Doctor was telling the Colonel to tell the troops to run away. “Do it. Issue the order,” Madame Kovarian said when they got into view.

The Doctor, who looked angry and dangerous, came up to her. “So. You’re the one behind all this,” he said.

“Doctor,” Sherlock said.

“Yes?” he said rather snappishly, not bothering to look at him.

“Look at her. Take a good look at her.”

Now the Doctor glanced at him, and then back at Madame Kovarian, really looking at her. Her smug look started to falter just a bit. “Yes, I believe I see what you mean,” he said quietly, nodding. “If you were her, Sherlock, what sort of plan would you have as a contingency?”

“I’d replace the baby with a flesh duplicate,” Sherlock replied, watching the smirk quickly leave her face altogether. “Check the baby.”

“What do you mean?” Amy asked, clutching Melody tighter.

“She’s the type of woman to have a contingency plan. Before we all celebrate I would like to make sure she doesn’t have any tricks up her sleeve,” he replied.

“Amy,” the Doctor said gently. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” she said quietly.

“Give me your baby.” She hesitated a moment, but she handed him her child. He cradled her gently, and then whipped out his sonic. It took a moment, but his features settled on a cold anger as he read the results. “You were right, Sherlock.”

“Right about what?” Amy asked, frantic.

“She’s replaced our daughter,” Sherlock replied. A rage he had not known before, not even during his confrontation with Moriarty, boiled inside him. He rounded on Madame Kovarian as he heard the Doctor sonic the duplicate and Amy choke on a sob. “Where is my real daughter?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

She looked at him. “I’m not going to let you win so easily,” she spat out. “I’ll tell you when hell freezes over.”

“John, hold this,” he said, handing John the gun he had liberated from the guard. “That window, is it bulletproof?” he posed as a question to the room, as he pulled out the gun he’d brought with him from his coat pocket, flipped off the safety and aimed at the window.

“No,” the military colonel replied, his voice shaky.

He fired the gun in response. The glass shattered into thousands of tiny pieces. Everyone except him jumped, Jenny screamed and Amy gasped loudly. Then he took the gun and pressed it under Madame Kovarian’s chin. She writhed a bit as the hot steel on the muzzle burned her skin. “This gun is fully loaded, save one round. I can shoot to injure, or I can shoot to kill. Tell me where my daughter is now and you can walk out of here. Don’t, and you can crawl.”

She looked at him, terrified. “She’s…she’s on the ship. Sedated. In a pod in the cargo bay of my ship.”

“John, go look,” the Doctor said. John nodded, leaving the room. The atmosphere in the control room was tense, even after Sherlock pulled the gun from under her chin and began to pace, never looking away from Madame Kovarian, who looked at his gun with great fear. He kept his gun trained on her, just in case. Minutes ticked by, and about twenty minutes later John came in, carrying a sleeping infant. The Doctor moved over to him quickly, and pulled out his sonic, scanning the baby. A wide smile formed on his face as he read the results, and he took the baby from John. “Hello, Melody,” he cooed.

“It’s really her? That’s really my baby?” Amy asked from where she sat with Jenny.

“It’s really her,” he said, carrying Melody over to her mother, who stood up to receive her. “She should wake up in about a half hour. It was a low dosage of sedatives.”

Amy took her baby and cradled her in her arms. “Sherlock,” she said. He gave Madame Kovarian one last look, then put the safety back on and stowed his gun, going over to Amy. “It’s time for a proper introduction. This is Melody Pond.”

“Hello, Melody,” he said. He reached over and smoothed the hair on her head back a bit. Amy looked at him, and then offered her to him. He put his hands up at first, but she glared at him and offered again. “I don’t know how to hold a baby,” he said quietly, almost mumbling.

“Put your arms like mine,” Amy said, the glare softening into a look of understanding. He did, and she placed his daughter in his arms. “Support her head. There you go.” She beamed at him. “I think you’ll do okay.”

He held his daughter close to him, and then turned to face Madame Kovarian. The terror had left her face, and the smug look was back. “I still win.”

“You do, and you don’t,” Sherlock replied. “Have you considered what the date is?” She shook her head slowly, and he nodded to the Doctor. “It’s the end of August, in the year 2011. He’s still alive.”

“That can’t be. He died that day. We were watching!” she said, shock forming on her face as she looked back at the Doctor.

“Yes, I know. I was in the body they burned that day,” he said with a wicked smile. “I did this to draw you out.”

She looked at the Doctor, then back at Sherlock. “You still lose her,” she said spitefully.

“I know,” he said, handing his child back to her mother. “And I should shoot your knees out, leave you to crawl on the floor when you want to get from place to place. You’ve heard the stories about me, I assume? What I did to Moriarty for strapping a bomb to Amelia’s chest?” She nodded, and he got up close to her, lowering his face so it was inches from hers. “I find leaving him in a vegetative state too lenient,” he said in a low, cold voice. “If you or anyone from your organization come near me or my family again, or send anyone else after us, I’ll make sure that I don’t make that mistake again.” He pulled away and saw that the color had drained from her face. “She’s all yours, Doctor.”

The Doctor looked a bit disturbed at how easily and ruthlessly Sherlock had issued his threat, but shook it off quickly. “I think Stormcage should suffice,” he replied. 

Sherlock went back to Amy and their daughter. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“I am now,” she replied, looking up at him. He kissed her then as everyone filed out of the room around them. This felt right, he thought to himself. This had been missing the last few months, this spark. He pulled away and she headed after the others, with him close behind. “I have a question for you,” she said when they were on the stairs on their way to the TARDIS, which was in the cargo bay.

“Yes?” he replied.

“What was that about when you said she wins and she doesn’t? And that we still lose her?” she asked, stopping.

“How much do you remember?” he asked.

“Everything. It was like I was there, actually doing all that stuff. I’d get brief glimpses that I wasn’t, where I’d see _her_ in a rectangle of light, but I remember everything.”

“So you remember the Doctor’s death.” She nodded. “After the Doctor destroyed the flesh duplicate version of you, River told me something. She told me she’s still the one to kill the Doctor.”

“But she was there with us, by the lake.”

“A younger version of herself does the deed,” he said. “Our daughter, to be precise.”

“I don’t understand,” she said, confused.

“Something happens in twenty years. She said she has Time Lord DNA from being conceived on the TARDIS. She regenerates, and then an imprint kicks in and she kills the Doctor. I’m assuming she acts like she’s been brainwashed, and finds her way into that suit and to that lake at that time.”

“Can’t we stop it?” she asked, holding Melody closer like she could protect her from her fate.

“I’m afraid not,” came a voice from the bottom of the stairs. They looked and saw the Doctor there. “And River won’t be visiting anymore either. She can’t cross her personal time stream. I’ll see if I can make concessions, but I don’t know what she’ll agree to and what she won’t when it comes to her past.”

“So I lose my daughter in twenty years and that’s it?” Amy asked, angry, glaring at him.

He nodded slowly. “Amy, River’s memories…she has memories of two different lives.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“There’s this life, where Sherlock is her father, and you two get to raise her. But she remembers a different one, where Rory Williams is her father, and you never get to raise her. That’s how it played out in some alternate universe, and she remembers it.” 

Amy looked at Sherlock. “Did she say anything else?” she said.

“She said she had fond memories of her childhood,” he said.

“She told me something else. I had thought not to tell you, but perhaps I should,” the Doctor replied. “You two have a little boy when she’s four years old. He is not like River, he’s perfectly normal. But he’s special in other ways.”

“And what about you?” she asked, her voice sad and almost resigned. “Are you going to leave us, too?”

“No, never,” he said, stepping up the stairs to them. “I’m going to stick around, drive your entire family insane. You won’t be able to get rid of me.” He got up to Amy and put an arm around her shoulders. “I can tell you one good bit of news about River.”

“What?” she said.

“With Madame Kovarian going to Stormcage, for your kidnapping and orchestrating my murder, River might be released. She’ll be a free woman. Be able to live the rest of her life outside of a prison.”

“Will you look after her?” she asked.

He nodded. “I will. I promise.” He leaned over and kissed Amy’s cheek. “And you know me. I always keep my word.”

Amy smiled a bit. “Would you like to hold her?”

“I’d love to," he said. He took the sleeping baby out of her arms. “Hello, Melody. There are a lot of people who would like to meet you.” He carried her down the stairs while her parents watched.

Amy reached over and took Sherlock’s hand in hers. “Thank you for telling me. I may not like it, but I’d have hated you for not telling me. It’s just going to take some getting used to, this whole thing.”

“A friend gave me good advice on that point,” he said. She squeezed his hand and they walked down the stairs together, her leaning against him. “I have a question for you, though.”

“Yeah?” she asked.

“Are you still going to marry me?” he asked, as casually as possible.

“Of course I am,” she said. He stopped and she took two steps forward before he pulled her back to him. “Yes?” she said.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring, handing the box to her. “I thought it might help to have a ring this time,” he said quietly.

She opened the small box and gasped. “Oh, it’s _lovely_.”

“You don’t want a different one?” he asked. “One you pick out yourself?”

“No, this is absolutely perfect,” she said. She took the ring out and looked at it closely, then gave it to him and held up her left hand. “At least you can put it on.” He slipped the ring on her finger and she put her hand up, examining it. Then she put her arms around his neck. “I really do love you, Sherlock.”

“I know,” he said, putting his arms around her. “I love you as well.”

“Good,” she said, leaning up to kiss him. When they parted, she smiled at him. “It’s going to be an interesting life, but at least we’re in it together.”

“That’s the plan,” he said.

She undid her arms and took his hand. “Come on. Now I have to get introduced to John all over again.” She gave him a smile, and he felt himself grin back as she pulled him along back to where the others were gathered. They all boarded the TARDIS, including Lorna, who had been introduced to the Doctor in the control room. “You know what I just realized?” she said to Sherlock, watching as the Doctor took Melody around, introducing her to everyone.

“What?” he said.

“Everybody lived, we have our daughter back, I’m not in a prison anymore…this is a good ending to all this.”

“It rather is, isn’t it?” he said thoughtfully. 

“Yes,” she replied. And then everyone converged on them, and they didn’t get a moment alone until the Doctor dropped them off last at her flat, having dropped John off at his home first and then run a mysterious errand while he shooed them and Lorna, who was going to travel with him, off to the kitchen. He’d gone back in time so it was the evening of the day he’d revealed that there was a flesh duplicate of Amy there instead of the real deal. 

Sherlock used his key to let them in, and they made it to Amy’s room to find a crib in there. It was wooden and old, and had strange markings on it, and a wooden mobile was attached that had stars and planets on it. A changing table that looked much newer was nearby. “I bet it was his,” Amy said with a smile.

“Perhaps,” he replied. He watched her set their daughter in the crib and then moved over to her.

“I want a long hot shower and comfortable clothes,” she replied. “It’s a good thing he scared away the paparazzi because they would have had a field day with me wearing this and carrying a baby.”

“You still need to explain it,” he said, watching as she went to her drawers and grabbed a pair of comfortable pajamas.

She shook her head. “He’s set it up. According to the world, Melody Holmes was born yesterday and we quietly adopted her. It’ll be all over the news tomorrow.”

“I thought her name was Melody Pond,” he said with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, we’re going to be getting married soon. I figured she ought to have her father’s name.” She smiled at him, changed, and then took his hand and led him out into the living room, where there was a stroller, a car seat, a fully stocked diaper bag, a case of formula and two cases of diapers. “John and I talked,” she said as she sat down on the couch.

“Oh?” he said, sitting next to her. He had been talking to Jack for a while, after everyone else had been taken back. They must have talked then. “About what?”

She nodded, leaning against him. He put an arm around her shoulders. “I own this flat outright. He’s going to pay me about what he pays for living with you and move in here.” She looked at him. “You’re going to have to baby-proof your flat. And clean it, organize it.”

He groaned slightly. “That’s going to be a bother,” he said.

“I’ll help,” she said.

“Well, then perhaps it will work,” he said. “You don’t have to do it, though. I could move in here.”

“No. There’s something…iconic…about Sherlock Holmes at 221B Baker Street,” she said. “And I do like it there. Plus Mrs. Hudson chases off the paparazzi much better than I seem to be able on my own.”

“Are you still going to model?” he asked.

She nodded. “After a break. I want to spend time with Melody. And I’m going to start writing down the stories of my travels with the Doctor. I’m thinking of making it a young adult series, if I can get a publisher.”

“You will. And John can help. His blog is popular enough that he must have some skill at writing.”

“What about you? Still going to be the world’s only consulting detective?” she asked.

“Yes. I don’t see any particular need to change my occupation.” He looked down at her and saw she was yawning. “Why don’t you get some sleep?”

“I spent most of the last few months alone, in a small cylinder, in perpetual sleep,” she said. “I want to enjoy being home here with you.” She lifted herself up a bit and shifted, and he turned to face her more. “I missed you,” she said quietly. “After he cut off contact I felt so desperately alone.”

“You’re not alone anymore,” he said, shifting some more so he was laying down and she was sprawled on top of him, and he ran a hand up and down her spine. “And I’ll make sure you’re not put in danger like that again.”

“You can only protect me so much,” she said, tapping him on the nose with her finger. “But I can take care of myself, to an extent. And the Doctor is going to look out for us. We’ll be fine.”

He grabbed her hand and kissed her palm. “I’ll protect you as much as I can,” he said.

“Good.” She moved their hands out of the way and kissed him softly. “I’m glad I’m home,” she murmured when she pulled away.

“I’m glad you are too,” he said. He snaked his hand up and tangled his fingers in her hair, pulling her in for another kiss which lasted a few moments until Melody started to cry. He looked at her. “I can see why we don’t have another child until Melody is four,” he said with a sigh.

Amy giggled and got up off of him. “I think she just doesn’t want to be left out.” She headed into the bedroom. “We better get used to it.”

He shook his head slightly and followed her there. This life, as crazy as it was going to be, was better than he could have hoped. It was going to take some getting used to, but he did believe that this life was preferable to what he had had before, and he would make sure he lived it to the fullest.


	6. Chapter 6

It was a week later when they got a visit from the Doctor. For the time being, until everyone could get packed and switch residences, Sherlock had moved in with Amy and Melody at Amy’s flat. And that was where the Doctor found them one rather chilly afternoon as fall began to set in. He seemed happy to see them, but Sherlock noticed he was tense. After he was done playing with Melody and informing her parents of what she was really saying, they put her down for her nap and gathered at the dining room table.

“You had another reason for coming here,” Amy said shrewdly. “You didn’t just want to visit and check up on us.”

“Your keen insights are rubbing off on her,” he said to Sherlock, who wore a faintly amused look on his face. “I’m not sure if this is a good thing or not.”

“I had keen insights before,” she replied, swatting at his arm. Then she fixed him with a serious look. “What happened, Doctor?”

“Madam Kovarin was taken to Stormcage. She wouldn’t talk at first, but then she confessed. They were in the middle of taking her confession when her eye patch, which had not been taken off even though I warned them, electrocuted her. On the one hand she said enough to ensure River’s freedom, but on the other we won’t have the chance to learn anything else about the organization from her.”

“What about your new companion?” Sherlock asked.

“Lorna knows a few things about the military side of things, but she wasn’t privy to the types of information we need to figure out what their endgame is.” He sighed. “Jack’s stayed aboard as well, and since we’re concentrating on the larger picture now instead of just trying to find Amy his contacts are good again. We’re going to keep trying to figure out exactly what it is they want to stop and why they wanted to use your daughter as a weapon against me.”

“Thank you for telling us,” Amy said.

“I couldn’t keep it from you for long. Eventually it would have come out.” Then he smiled slightly. “You have realized that River jumped around in time while she was in Stormcage, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” Amy said, and Sherlock nodded as well.

“She’s on her way to becoming a professor,” he said with a wider smile. “She had gotten her doctorate the day her younger self killed me, and now she is going to become a professor since she’s free.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Amy said. “She’s going to be as smart as her father.”

“Then it’s a very good thing she’s residing in the 51st century,” the Doctor replied. “The Earth couldn’t handle both of them at the same time.”

“We’ll never get to see her again?” Sherlock asked.

He shrugged slightly. “She hasn’t told me what all her plans are, but most likely she’ll be residing there until her death.” Amy opened her mouth and he raised his hand. “Don’t ask for details, I won’t tell you.” She closed her mouth again and pouted. He looked and sighed. “She dies saving my life and my companion at the time. And that’s all I’m going to tell you.”

“I have another question,” Amy asked, her eyes narrowing slightly.

“Yes?”

“Exactly what type of relationship do you have with my daughter?” she asked, looking at him intently.

He squirmed slightly, and then ran his finger under his bowtie. “We’re in a dating relationship,” he said.

“Are you going to marry her?” she said, leaning forward, raising an eyebrow slightly.

He looked to Sherlock. “Aren’t you supposed to be asking these types of questions, as the consulting detective?” he asked.

“I think Amelia’s doing just fine and I’m rather sure you don’t _really_ want me interrogating you,” he said, an amused look on his face. “Besides, I’m quite keen to know the answer myself.”

He looked almost panicked. “Okay. _Technically_ , we were married, in one version of events. What you saw happen at Lake Silencio was what was supposed to happen. But River decided she didn’t want to kill me so she didn’t, and all of time happened at once, and I did a hand fasting to convince her to do it.”

“How come I don’t remember this?” Amy asked.

“It happened in the one where Rory’s her father,” he replied. “And she remembers this, and I have some recollections of it, but I’m not married to your River. Not yet. She’s working on it, though.” 

“What do you know about that universe?” Sherlock asked, curious.

The Doctor leaned back in his seat. “For starters, you two didn’t grow up in Leadworth together. You’ve never met each other. Amy grew up alone and with very few friends. Her two closest were Rory and a girl named Mels, who happened to be their daughter, though they didn’t know that.” He caught the confused look on Amy’s face. “Something similar to what happened here happened there. Amy was kidnapped and the baby, also named Melody, was stolen. Except Rory and Amy didn’t get her back. She was raised in an orphanage of sorts, and then she escaped, regenerated into a young black girl and looked up her parents, growing up with them as their friend Mels. After we rescued Amy their friend traveled with me briefly, right before she regenerated into River.”

“So she’s better off here,” Amy said.

The Doctor nodded slightly. “Yes. I don’t remember all the details very well, but many bad things happen. There are cracks in that universe, much like the crack I fixed in your wall all those years ago. If you touched the crack your existence was erased.”

“I touched the crack loads of times,” Amy said. She looked at Sherlock. “We both did.”

He nodded. “When it first appeared I examined it closely,” he said.

“The cracks must be different,” the Doctor replied. “Well, in any case one of the cracks got Rory, and that Amy forgot all about him. But there were people in that universe, people who thought I’d bring it to an end. They put me in a box called the Pandorica. And Rory had come back, as a Nestine Duplicate. He guarded the box for two thousand years while that universe’s Amy was healing.”

“What happened to her?” Sherlock asked.

“Auton Rory shot her, and she was dying. The Pandorica stasis locked her until the younger version of herself touched the box. Then that version of me fixed the cracks but erased himself in the process. That version of Amy brought me back, with her memories.”

“But why don’t I remember any of this?” Amy asked. “I mean, I should know this. Why does River remember it and I don’t?”

“Because she’s part Time Lord,” he said. “She knows anything that could happen and everything that did, including other parallel worlds. I try and forget about most of the parallel worlds and focus on this one, because it makes my head hurt. But River remembering the other world caused me to look over my memories of it, and that’s what I remember.”

“What happened to me, in the end?” she asked.

“I left you and Rory, and you lived out the rest of your lives together with the occasional visit from River,” he replied. “You had more children, and while you always missed River you had a good life. You were happy.”

“What about Sherlock?” Amy asked. The Doctor looked away slightly. “It was bad?”

“Do you want to know?” he asked Sherlock.

Sherlock nodded slowly. “Yes, I think I would like to know.”

“That version of you became very famous, once John started blogging about your cases. It got to a point where you got a fan.”

“Moriarty?” Sherlock asked.

The Doctor nodded. “Your alternate version captured him, but in the end he convinced everyone you were a fraud. He killed himself on the roof of St. Bart’s, and then you had to fake your death by jumping off the roof. If you hadn’t, Moriarty’s men would have killed all those you held dear. You returned a few years later, but things were not easy for you after that.” He looked at Amy, then at Sherlock again. “There. Are you satisfied now?”

“I am,” Sherlock said with a short nod. He turned to Amy, who looked sad. “I believe we can move on to another topic now?”

“Oh, yeah, that’s fine,” Amy said, shaking her head slightly. “I just…it’s so strange to know that this all went so differently in some other universe.”

“I know it seems strange, but there are probably other universes where it went even more differently,” the Doctor said, reaching over to pat Amy’s hand. “Don’t let it trouble you much.”

“So what are you going to do now, other than learn more about the Silence?” Sherlock asked. “They know you didn’t _really_ die at Lake Silencio by now.”

“I’m going to be low-key, do things under the radar,” he replied. “Stop being ‘The Doctor’ to anyone except my closest friends and companions. John Smith is a common enough name, and I’ve used it before. Won’t hurt to dust it off and put it to use permanently. I want to find out what they want to stop and to do that I need to be the Doctor a bit longer but soon I’ll be John Smith.”

“Still going to travel the galaxy?” Amy asked.

“Of course. It’s not as though I’m going to settle down somewhere, buy a farm and become a farmer. Who don’t expect me to _retire_ , do you?” he asked, as if the idea was the pinnacle of ludicrousness.

She chuckled. “Of course not.”

“Good. I plan on taking you two and your children on some adventures yet. Haven’t really had children aboard. Ought to be a new experience.”

Amy looked over at Sherlock, who nodded, and then back to the Doctor. “We’ve talked about this a bit. We don’t mind going with you sometimes, but we’re not sure we want our children coming with us.”

“Oh,” he said quietly. “You think it might be too dangerous.”

Sherlock nodded. “Yes.”

“But we don’t want you to stop coming to us,” Amy reassured him. “And maybe, when they’re older, we’ll change our minds. But for right now, they can’t go. But we still want to, as long as you promise to bring us back in a reasonable amount of time.”

“I can do that,” he said with a nod. “No long adventures for you. Of course in your case, Sherlock, you’ve only had one long adventure. And it wasn’t really an adventure…”

“No, it wasn’t,” he said, tensing slightly. He didn’t think anyone noticed, but Amy reached over for his hand and squeezed it tightly. It was going to be something that took a while for him to get over, he could tell.

“One day we’ll go somewhere, and everything will go fine, and there won’t be any running or threats or danger,” the Doctor replied. “I swear it to both of you.”

“I’m going to hold you to that,” Amy said with a smile. “What are you going to do when you leave here?”

“I promised Lorna we’d go travel a bit. She’s particularly interested in the Renaissance. I’m thinking we might drop in on Michelangelo as he paints the Sistine Chapel.”

“Oh, that sounds fun,” she said, in a tone far too casual for the bright gleam in her eyes.

“You want to go,” Sherlock replied.

She started to shake her head, and then sighed and nodded, ending with her head hanging down. “Yes. Being cooped up in that…thing…for so long, I want to go explore a bit. I want to do stuff.”

Sherlock looked at her intently. “I suppose I can get John to come around for a bit. And I know enough not to seriously harm our daughter, if you want to go.”

She looked at the Doctor. “Can I?”

“Oh, I suppose so,” he said in a voice that was teasing her, adding a sigh for effect. She squealed slightly and got up, throwing her arms around his neck. He hugged her back, holding on a bit longer than he needed. “It’s good to have you back,” he said quietly, his voice muffled because his lips were in her hair.

“Thank you,” she said as she pulled away. She went over to Sherlock and kissed him quickly. “And I knew there was a reason I was madly in love with you.”

He looked at her with an amused smile on his face just as cries came from Amy’s room. “You had best go now,” he replied as he got up. “If you go calm her you’ll stay and then you’ll feel miserable.” He went to the room as he heard them leave, and checked his daughter. She didn’t seem to need anything, so he picked her up. He was still new to all this, but the one thing he had most definitely learned in the last week was how to hold a baby.

She quieted down almost immediately as he moved over to the bed and sat down. She had the best of her mother’s features, though she was missing the red hair, instead having dark curly hair like her father. He still didn’t feel comfortable talking to her, so they sat in silence until she was asleep again. He put her back in the crib and looked at her for a few minutes before heading out. It was still strange living in this home, and he was glad Amelia had made the decision to move in with him. Since he had already solved the cases before, thanks to going through this time already, he had new cases now, and he had brought over files for those cases. He began to go through them, looking for anything he had missed.

When the door opened three hours later he looked up and saw a paint-splattered Amelia stalk inside. She looked annoyed, and he didn’t make a move to stop her as she headed into the washroom, nor did he say anything to distract her. He set his files aside and waited. Some time later she came out, her hair wet and up in a twist and her pajamas on. “I take it you weren’t happy with being covered in paint,” he said as she sat down next to him.

“No,” she said. She didn’t look so annoyed at the moment, but she looked as though she might go back into that mode at any moment. “The Doctor dropped a bucket of paint on my head as he was handing it to Michelangelo. At least he apologized, but…I don’t even know if I got all the paint out of my hair.”

He undid her twist, letting her hair fall free, and looked. “You appear to have gotten it all,” he said.

“Thank you.” She leaned backwards, not bothering to re-do her hair. “Maybe I’m too old for it all. Before I’m sure I would have laughed, or even tried retaliating, but today…” She sighed.” I guess my adventuring days really are over,” she added, sounding sad and resigned.

“You’ve been through a lot, and it’s only been a week since it all ended,” he pointed out. “Give it time. It’s in your blood. Eventually you’ll be keen to travel with him again.”

“I suppose,” she replied. “How was Melody?”

“Very quiet. She went back to sleep and hasn’t woken up again. I checked multiple times to make sure she was fine. I think she may have heard the talking and gotten lonely.” He watched her for a moment. “It’s perfectly all right to go check on her.”

“I know,” she said. She looked at him for a moment, and then moved closer. “I already did, when I got out of the shower. She’s sound asleep.” He put an arm around her shoulders and she nestled against him. “Are you really happy with this life, Sherlock?” she asked. “I mean, with me and a baby and…all of it.”

“I’m still getting used to it, but I wouldn’t have it any other way,’ he said. “When we were looking for you, all I could focus on was getting my family back. I know Mycroft is family, but if I was in the same position and had to look for him…I probably wouldn’t have looked so hard.” 

She giggled slightly at that. “You never did tell me his reaction to Melody.”

“He would have preferred if we had gotten married first, for appearances sake, though since we're engaged he's letting it slide,” he said. “But he was happy the Holmes name was continuing, even if it was a girl. I didn’t think he needed to know there would be a son eventually.”

“Yeah, well, our wacky family, our wacky rules,” she said. “I’m just glad knowing you don’t regret this.”

“I regret not being there for you,” he said.

“I’ll make damn sure you’re around for the second one,” she said. “You’ll hate me by the time I have him.”

He shifted to look at her, and she lifted her head up. “I could never hate you. Be annoyed with you, be angry with you, but never hate. Hate is reserved for people who choose to cross me.”

“I’ll remember that,” she said. “Want to try and get some sleep before she wakes up again?”

He nodded. “I’ll take care of her this time.”

“Nope,” she said, shaking her head. “I got to go adventuring while you had to sit here. I’ll handle her tonight.” She kissed him quickly before she got up and offered him her hand. He took it and she led them back to her room. She climbed into bed while he got ready, and he joined her when he was done. “Good night, Sherlock,” she said as she settled against him.

“Good night, Amelia,” he replied, turning off the light and very soon afterwards drifting off to sleep, contented at last.


End file.
